Flashing Lights - Dean Ambrose
by EliasDuchanne
Summary: An eccentric Dean Ambrose takes on the debacles of the WWE industry. On the outside it seems like a fun place but in Ambrose's own sick mind, it's a battleground filled with injustice and anarchy.


ENTRY #2054

I left Cincinnati. The damn place gave me nothing but unwanted memories. I never seen my father and my mother passed away from

a heart attack the spring when I turned 8. My aunt took care of me afterward. She raised me like her own till I turned 21. I never

exactly could "fit in" with others. Especially at school. Now don't jump to the conclusion that I was anti-social or anything like that.

I was nice to everyone who was nice to me. But somehow, I was always picked last for everything. When I was in the 7th grade, I got

bullied because people thought that since I was so nice to everyone around me, that I was weak. I wasn't weak. And I didn't fight

back. It was useless and petty. I don't expect any to give a false sympathetic face when I tell this. All it really did was build up

this...this inner anger. Deep down inside my heart. There is an idea of a "Dean Ambrose". An idea that's plastic and fake.

Something...illusionary. Untangable even. An idea I can't even begin to explain.

-  
"Dean...Dean..."

I could hear a faint voice in the background call. My eyes slowly slid open. Blinking a couple of times to try and ward of the

tiredness. "What?"

"I swear, you sleep in the most oddest of places," a man's voice replied. It sounded familiar. When my vision came into focus I saw

Corey Graves standing there. In this damn all-jean get-up. God that shit is ugly. Of course, if thought bubbles appeared next to my

head, I'd probably in deep trouble. What can I say? I'm blunt in my mind. Least when I speak there is at least some filter. As soon as

Corey mentioned me sleeping in odd places, I looked around. Noticing that I apparently fell asleep leaning against one of the

backstage vending machines.

"Well I can't help where I happen to land when I'm tired as hell," I told him simply. Arising from my current position, stretching out

my back, arms, neck, and legs in the process. Relief washed over me in an awesome wave. "So what? Were you sent down on "Dean

Wake-Up Call"?"

"Sort of. Knight said she wants to talk to you about something. And she can't do that while your lazy ass is in sleep mode." Corey

rolled his eyes. In a sort of sarcastic-ass way. The kind of way where you just want to push him down and kick sand in his eyes. No. I

won't. Mostly because there's no sand around. And also because I don't want to waste half my energy on that tattooed son-of-a-bitch.

Even though, when I squint my eyes closely and imagine it, stupid fuck probably thinks I'm trying to see something off in the

distance. I chuckled at the idea.

"What exactly did you want to talk to me about Paige?" A felt a headache coming on before she even began explaining. 5 bucks says

it's probably about Rollins or a new hair care product or even a new One Direction CD. I find it funny when Paige tries to put on

this tough anti-diva front, I always find her in her locker room singing and dancing along to that fucking boy band. Course, she

doesn't know that I'm the only one that knows. Which makes it even more funny.

"I wanted to get your thoughts on what would you think of me and Seth as a couple.." You owe me five bucks. Her tone sounded

serious. As if she expected me to give a formal answer.

"You two would be fine together," I said half-assedly. Truth is, I really didn't care. Even though I probably should. After the fact that

I'm somewhat dating Summer Rae, Paige's bestfriend, so I'd have to endure this crap. Then again, to no one else's knowledge that I'm

also fucking Eve. Eve who's dating the biggest dickweed in the company. Zack Ryder. This gives me a sense of satisfaction. This

whole shabang. Considering both Summer AND Paige utterly loathe Eve. Summer is just a pretty faced hardbody. No real common

sense. She probably functions on what...half a brain? Whether as Eve is like a complete package that Ryder clearly doesn't know

how to please. I feel a little cynical just thinking all this.

"Well it's just that I was gonna ask him out after his match against Kassius later tonight," the dark-haired bitch continued on. "Oh

Deany! Deanyboo!" a screeching voice called. Summer's. I forced a smile as I turned to look in her direction. "Summer..." I muttered

in utter annoyance but low enough no one but me could hear.

She hugged onto my arm like a fucking leech. The muscles in my left tensed uneasily. "Deany, will you come with me for my

match?" Summer gave me this sad puppy dog look that I just wanted to smack right off her face. "No," my tone was assertive, but

not too assertive where it seems like I have an aggression problem. "W-why not Deany?" she whined in a high-pitched voice that just

made me want to just yell "I'M FUCKING EVE. YOU'RE SO FUCKING STUPID TO EVEN FIGURE THAT OUT. YOU DUMB

BITCH." But I refrained. "I'm meeting Barrett at Linixus for drinks since I don't have a match tonight," I pretended to look at my

phone for the time, "in which I'm not 5 minutes late for thanks to you." I didn't hesitate when I yanked my arm from Summer's tight

leech grip and hurried away to the nearest fucking exit. I was actually just going back to my hotel room to sleep. I hate Barrett. He's

been mistaking me from Mick Foley ever since I met him. Excluding the fact I don't have a beard, I'm like 30 years younger than

him, and that I even thought me and Foley use the barber...I have a slightly better haircut.


End file.
